


Point and Shoot

by doylesmom



Series: Sweet Burn [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Cunnilingus, F/M, Gun Violence, Mafia AU, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Racism, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Woman on Top, allusions to drugs, everyone say thank you NaNoWriMo, the mafia au I’ve been wanting to write for over a month now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylesmom/pseuds/doylesmom
Summary: Once the war was over. Maybe they could all move on with their lives, then. Bernadetta could retire and never have another trauma induced episode again. Hilda and Marianne could finally get married. Ignatz could finish art school. Sylvain could come out of hiding. And maybe, maybe, if they were both still alive, she could confess to Claude, her best friend, who she loved more than she had ever loved anyone or anything in her life.But that day had not come yet, and that time was not now, and as she took his hand as he helped her out of her seat, she could only pray, pray, pray that that day might come soon.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Sweet Burn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587358
Comments: 40
Kudos: 288





	Point and Shoot

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this my apology for the most recent chapter of A Million Dreams. I’ve been wanting to write this AU for a while, and Robin (and NaNoWriMo) finally convinced me to do it.
> 
> Robin- thank you for being the best hype man (and beta) ever!

The red glow of the bar’s OPEN sign flashed across her face as Byleth pulled open the door, sighing at the warmth inside, which was a welcome reprieve from the cold rain of the city streets. Sliding onto an empty stool in the far corner, she motioned for the bartender to slide her a drink. The woman poured out two fingers of whiskey- the good kind. Byleth nodded her thanks and took a sip, the smooth burn of the alcohol washing away the last remnants of the late November chill. 

“Need anything else?” The bartender asked. Byleth shook her head, and the woman went back to her other customers, just as she had every time she had asked Byleth for the past two weeks. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to come here much longer. After all, she was sure she had caught his attention by now.

And speak of the devil, there he was, entering the bar himself. Tall, sharply handsome, all lidded eyes and easy smiles as he greeted the other regulars and ordered his own drink- some sort of rum concoction. She turned her eyes to her own drink as she felt his gaze work its way up her body from across the room, moving from the black stilettos strapped to her feet, to the strappy little black dress that accented her chest just so, to the dark red lipstick she wore, ending at her seemingly effortless French twist, the kind that looked as though it had taken ten minutes rather than an hour of work and a half a can of hairspray.

She shivered as he approached, biting her lip and looking him over once as well.

“Hi there, stranger,” he greeted, his straight, white teeth flashing in the low lights as he slid into the seat next to her. “You must be new around here.”

“I am,” she said, doing her best to ignore him as she returned her attention to her drink. His eyes roved down her body once more, lingering on her chest and her hips, and she felt a little thrill of victory. This was her favorite part of the game.

“Well,” he leaned against the counter, his smile growing animalistic as his eyes finally returned to her face, “I would personally love to get to know you better.”

She took a moment to look him over once more, pondering his golden skin, the bulge of his arms, the shape of his eyes.

“I think that would be lovely,” she purred, “but wouldn’t your wife mind?” 

“My wife?” the man asked, his mask cracking for just a moment before sliding smoothly back into place, his eyes darting to the wedding band that she had noticed. “Ah, yes. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, don’t you agree?”

“Hmmmm,” Byleth hummed, arching her back in a stretch as she finished her drink and pushed it across the counter, “Well, if you’re sure.”

She slid out of her seat and sashayed towards the back door that led out to the alleyway, batting her eyelashes at the man. He grinned cockily and followed her out.

Point to Byleth.

The door slammed closed behind them, echoing in the late evening. Byleth sauntered up to him, trailing her manicured fingers softly up his arms until she was cupping his face in her hands. She pulled him in close, scratching her nails through the short curls at the nape of his neck.

“Sorry about this,” she whispered hotly into his ear. Before he could react with anything more than a look of confusion she activated the hidden needle in her own ring, piercing his neck and holding him close as he jerked and then passed out. Gently, she lowered him to the ground, his eyes fluttering as the sedative took hold in his body.

The bartender came out a few minutes later, just as Byleth was finishing securing his hands and feet. 

“Yeah, that’s him alright,” Leonie confirmed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. “Let’s get him to the boss.”

\---- 

Byleth really couldn’t blame the guy- Caleb, according to his ID, although they all knew that wasn’t his real name- for shaking as hard as he did when he finally woke up, strapped to a chair in a darkened hotel room. She wouldn’t want to be where he was, not in a million years. 

“Good evening, Marco,” Claude purred from his overstuffed leather chair in the corner of the room. His voice was magnetic, and Byleth felt a chill race up her spine at his tone. Marco let out a pitiful squeal as his head whipped to face Claude, the blood draining from his face at the sight of the King of the Golden Deer, half hidden in the shadows. 

Claude and his damn theatrics, she thought fondly, gazing down her nose at Marco from her position to the left of Claude, just as Hilda had taught her how to do. She took a seat on the armrest, the movement catching Marco’s eyes. He growled at the sight of her.

“Bitch,” he spat. Claude raised an eyebrow at that, clearing his throat and placing a large hand on her thigh, the heat of it burning through her thin dress like a brand.

“Mr. Riegan, sir.” Marco didn’t stutter as he said this, turning to face Claude instead of Byleth, which either meant that he thought he could talk his way out of this or that he had accepted his fate. For his own sake, Byleth sincerely hoped it was the latter.

“Do you know why you’re here, Marco?” Claude asked, his voice deceptively light. Nobody with half a brain cell to their name would mistake this conversation for a friendly chat, and apparently Marco possessed at least two, because he didn’t let his guard down. 

“I’m afraid not sir,” he lied smoothly, the only thing giving away his anxiety a small, almost unnoticeable twitch of his eye. But almost wasn’t good enough, and Byleth knew that if she could see it, so could her boss, who shifted slightly, leaning back into his seat. His expression was casual, purposefully so. His thumb began to stroke along Byleth’s thigh, the only sign of emotion from him sending electric sparks from her legs into her core. Suddenly, she was very glad she was sitting.

“You see, Marco, I don’t believe you,” Claude said, lifting his hand to fold his fingers together. He shifted again, this time in a way that made the dim light of the moon gleam off of his golden tie pin, the symbol of his position, of what he’dhad to do to get there. “Because I think you know that the reason you were brought here has to do with a certain promise you made me that you’ve broken. A promise you made to my cousin, Alice. Remember her? You two were married, what, three years ago yesterday? Lovely event, took place at the family vineyard, both of us were there.”

“What does Alice have to do with this?” Marco asked, his mask starting to crack, his eyes blowing wide, pupils darting around the room, desperately looking for an escape. Not that he would find one- with Claude’s personal bodyguard at the door and Byleth’s best snipers manning the windows, the only two who would be leaving the room were herself and Claude. “Alice is dead.”

“Oh, you see, that has everything to do with this.” Claude shook his head, leaning back into his seat once more. His voice grew cold and sharp as he continued. “You see, my poor baby cousin was killed in a car accident, they said. But I think you and I both know that that isn’t the whole truth, is it? You made some bad deals, didn’t you Marco? Sold the wrong stuff to the wrong people, and made some big names very, very angry. And then poor Alice got caught up in your mess, and now she’s dead.”

“Listen, it’s not like that-” Marco started to say, visibly sweating. Claude groaned, cutting him off.

“Byleth, dear, please shut him up for a bit,” Claude said, inspecting his nails as Byleth got up from her seat, ignoring his pleas for mercy as she roughly gagged him with his own tie. He was full on crying then, tears and snot running down his face and dripping onto his chic, navy blue pants. Byleth stood behind him, waiting for her next orders.

“Now, as I was saying,” Claude continued, turning his burning green gaze onto his prey, “You made me a promise at your wedding, Marco, and what was that promise again? Do you remember?” Claude paused for a moment and then chuckled, tilting his head. “Oh, right, I almost forgot, you’re a little preoccupied at the moment, aren’t you? Well then, allow me to remind you, Marco. You promised Alice that you would cherish and protect her, so there’s two promises broken, Marco. And you promised me that you’d stay out of trouble and that you’d never betray the family. Three strikes and you’re out, Marco, but four? Four warrants a personal visit from me. So, Marco, any last words?” Claude motioned for Byleth to remove his gag.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” Marco wailed, still dripping, “I have an in with the Black Eagles! I can get you better product!” Claude clicked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

“No, Marco, we don’t do business with the Eagles. I’m sure you’re aware of this, after all you did sell out some family secrets to them in exchange for, oh what was it again Byleth? Right, free time with hookers. Well, Marco, I hope that was the best pussy you’ve ever had, because that signed your death warrant. Not to mention, we get better product from a nineteen-year-old chem student than we would ever get from you.” Claude gave the man one last piteous glance over before jerking his head for Byleth to proceed. She cocked her pistol as Claude stood up to unlock the window.

“By the way, Marco,” Claude said, smiling as he slid the window open. “Alice says hi.”

The last expression ever made by Marco Short was one of confusion, as Byleth’s bullet struck true, passing clean through his skull and into the brick of the nightclub next door. 

There were two knocks on the door before Raphael poked his head through, checking to make sure that everything was alright.

“Let Alice know that her problem has been taken care of,” Claude said, stepping around the rapidly cooling body, slumped over in the chair. Raphael nodded and pulled out his phone, shutting the door, leaving Byleth and Claude alone with the body once more. Byleth looked out the window and flashed her phone light three times, signaling to Leonie and Bernie that their jobs were done for the night. She turned to face Claude, who was back to his chair, relaxing in it and watching her very, very closely.

“That’s a lovely dress you have on, Teach,” he purred, his eyes caressing her form in the darkness of the early night. “Why don’t you dress like that more often?”

“You’re the one who hired me to carry out hits,” Byleth replied, meeting his gaze for a few moments before feeling something warm rise in her gut, the phantom feeling of his hand on her thigh searing her skin. She looked away, willing her blood to calm. “It’s hard to kill a man in restrictive clothing.” She felt her ears burn at his deep, gravely chuckle.

“On the contrary, my dearest teacher,” he said, his voice slipping unconsciously into his native French accent as he burned through her clothes with his eyes. “I think you would find it rather easy to kill a man in that. You see, it is very distracting. Why, even I might find myself distracted enough to be killed if you were to make an attempt on my life while wearing that. In fact, I might even let you.” Byleth froze at this, her pulse fluttering in her neck for a beat before Claude winked playfully at her. She relaxed, but only slightly. 

“Please, Claude,” Byleth teased, taking out her phone to alert Lorenz about the damaged brick on his building, “At least take me out to dinner first.”

He laughed and stood up from his chair, taking off his suit coat to reveal the clean lines of his matching shirt and vest below. He offered her the jacket, and she looked at him quizzically for a moment before taking it.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to her, his face soft in a way that made her insides melt, just a little bit. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Claude, I was just joking-”

“Ah, but I’m not. Come on, my treat. I know a great place just a couple of blocks from here,” he cajoled, wiggling his fingers and his eyebrows goofily. Byleth gave him a small smile, pulse fluttering in her neck as she watched a flush appear on his face as he took in her smile.

“Well,” she said, slipping his jacket over her shoulders and taking his hand, “if you insist.”

As he lead her out of the room she gave the jacket a discreet sniff. It smelled like him. She wondered if it would make her smell like him. No, best put that line of thought aside, she decided as they stepped out of the hotel into the cool streets. That kind of thinking wouldn’t get her anywhere.

\---- 

The streets were mostly empty as they walked, the rain and the late hour driving most of the crowds out of the city and into their homes. The only sounds as they made their way down half lit city streets came from the bars and the occasional passing car. It was colder now, and Byleth did her best not to shiver in her skimpy dress. It may have gone down to her knees, but it left most of her chest and all of her back exposed to the elements, and she was incredibly grateful for Claude’s jacket and the man himself, as he radiated body heat as though he were the sun itself. Her hand was tucked into the crook of his arm as they walked, and if she scooted closer to leech off more of his heat then that was nobody’s business but her own. Of course, he noticed the action, his face softening at the edges as he dropped her hand to wrap his arm around her entirely, pulling her in flush next to his body. It was kind of nice, if she was being totally honest. He was sturdy, and his frame blocked some of the breeze that blew past, increasing the chill in the air. 

He directed her into an unobtrusive doorway, the kind she may have passed a million times without thinking twice about. She pulled open the peeling green door and inhaled the smell of garlic and grease with a pleased noise. Claude chuckled at her reaction, herding her in and closing the door behind them. Besides the two of them, the place was empty, the only noise was faint opera music being played over the speakers.

“Maya, it’s me!” he called. A cute, curvaceous blonde darted out from behind a corner, beaming as she took in the sight of Claude. She approached rapidly, and Byleth instinctively took a step in front of Claude, her hand reaching for the nearest weapon stored on her person. She stopped when Claude placed a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Maya, this is Byleth. Byleth, this is Raphael’s little sister, Maya. This is their family restaurant,” he said softly, hand still on her shoulder, reassuring in its weight. She relaxed marginally, taking her hand off of her concealed pistol.

“Sorry about that, I always forget how jumpy you folks are,” Maya explained, thrusting out a hand for Byleth to shake. She had a firm grip, which Byleth respected. “Come on, sit wherever you want, boss man. I’ll bring out some drinks in just a minute.” 

Claude ushered Byleth towards a booth in the back corner, taking a seat on the opposite side of her. 

“You know, Teach, you look good wearing my clothes,” he teased, winking at her salaciously.

“Well, if all of your clothes are this warm I may just have to steal more,” she responded quietly before she could stop herself. The flabbergasted look on his face was worth it. He was adorable when he was flustered. It made Byleth wonder what he would look like during other activities.

‘No, Byleth,’ she chided herself, ‘We talked about this. No sleeping with former students. Even if he’s your best friend and you’re a little in love with him. Even if he looks like he could give you the best orgasm of your life. You can’t risk that.’

“Byleth, you can have as many of my clothes as you’d like,” he said, his voice serious and eyes dark as he looked her straight in the eyes. Their eyes locked, the air between them quiet but growing more charged by the second until Byleth forced herself to look away before she did something stupid, like jumping his bones, or worse, kissing him. She did her best to ignore the slight disappointment that flashed across his face.

“Drinks incoming!” Maya cheered, bouncing her way through the restaurant to their table, a tray of drinks in her hands. “I brought out the good stuff for you, boss man.” She said, placing a dusty bottle of red wine on the table with a wink. She handed them their glasses and some waters before departing once more. Claude wiped off the bottle, giving the label a read over before nodding in approval and pouring them both a glass.

“To us,” Claude said, tipping his glass to her. She tapped her glass against his, and took a sip, the wine dry and sweet. 

The conversation flowed easily from there, thick with innuendo, but still genuine in a way she could only be with Claude. They tossed around some ideas for expansion, teased each other over their food orders, joked about their friends, and Byleth even managed to pry out a few memories from him about his childhood in Paris. By the time their food arrived they were flushed from the wine and the conversation, somehow unable to look away from other for even a moment, despite how good the food was. And it was very, very good. 

They sat in silence after they were done, just looking at each other, tension heavy and electric in the air between them. Claude reached out to wipe some crumbs off of her face, and his touch made her skin burn with want. His hand lingered for a beat too long, before he snatched it back as though realizing what he was doing.

“Perhaps we should leave,” he said, looking away.

Byleth didn’t want to, but she knew that if they didn’t leave now, didn’t go their separate ways, she might make the biggest mistake of her life and invite him into her bed. She couldn’t do that- not now, not with a raging, three-way gang war that neither of them were guaranteed to survive. Maybe - maybe once it was over she would reconsider. But for now she packed those feelings away, stuffed them back into place in her box of repression, right next to the terror of holding her father as he bled out from the shot that started this whole mess in the first place, and right on top of the guilt of the money spent by Claude himself, keeping her alive during her five year coma, which she wouldn’t have fallen into if she hadn’t so foolishly attempted to make peace with Edelgard and Dimitri.

Once the war was over. Maybe they could all move on with their lives, then. Bernadetta could retire and never have another trauma induced episode again. Hilda and Marianne could finally get married. Ignatz could finish art school. Sylvain could come out of hiding. And maybe, maybe, if they were both still alive, she could confess to Claude, her best friend, who she loved more than she had ever loved anyone or anything in her life.

But that day had not come yet, and that time was not now, and as she took his hand as he helped her out of her seat, she could only pray, pray, pray that that day might come soon.

\---- 

The moon had risen in the sky when they left the restaurant, waving goodbye to a yawning Maya. They walked in silence once more, both caught up in their thoughts, neither wanting to disturb the delicate peace between them. Byleth did her best not to fidget, the charged energy from the restaurant still humming like a live wire under her skin. 

They came to a stop at a nearby alleyway. Here, they would split up, go their separate ways for the night. Byleth would go home, rid herself of that blasted dress, take a hot shower, and desperately try not to think about Claude as she touched herself. She tried not to imagine Claude doing the same. She turned to face him, to take in one last look at him for the night.

“Byleth,” he said, his voice low and thick, dropping a pit into her stomach as he reached up to cup her face with his hand, “I-”

Before he could finish his thought, a bullet whizzed through the air, barely missing Byleth’s ear as she threw herself behind a nearby dumpster, pulling Claude with her. He cursed and pulled out his own pistol, releasing the safety as he called out “Who’s there?” his voice shifting from Claude, her friend, to Claude, her boss.

“We’re here with a message from our boss!” a man cried from the other end of the alley. “She wants to know what you did with our supplier. You see, he missed a check in, and we tracked his body to a property in your name, you stupid gypsy.” Byleth felt her breath catch as Claude stiffened, feeling him shift from annoyed to pissed off. 

“Tell Edelgard,” Claude snarled, “that she can burn.” 

There was a kind of thrill in the way that they moved together. The kind of synchronicity that came from years of learning the way the other thought, moved. The kind that came from being master and student, then friends, then whatever they were now, that almost something balanced on a precipice, their tension thick and immutable even as they traded shots with the enemy. 

Claude was an excellent marksman, one of the finest she had ever met, ever trained. He was sure and confident in his moves and decisions. He wasn’t flashy or flamboyant, preferring to save his theatrics for the shooting range or intimidation rather than actual combat. Together they took aim, and one, two, three men went down, three left to go. Byleth had activated her emergency signal on her phone, backup would be on its way soon, but she knew that she and Claude could handle themselves in the meantime.

She wasn’t sure what Edelgard was thinking, sending a paltry group of amateurs after them like this. It wasn’t like her to try something so predictable and easily countered. Perhaps it was one of her underlings, rather than Edelgard herself. Something this foolhardy seemed more out of Caspar’s books.

Byleth heard a click behind her, ten feet away.

She turned, gun loaded.

The man fired.

She was too late.

The bullet struck.

But the pain of impact never came. Instead, she watched with terror struck eyes as Claude collapsed in front of her, grasping at his chest where the bullet had struck.

He hit the ground.

Byleth screamed.

\---- 

The next few minutes were terrifyingly long, burned into Byleth’s psyche like a brand. One, two, three, four, she shot down the remaining gunmen with brutal efficiency, taking a sick thrill from the way they fell, never to hurt her or her people ever again.

Her people.

Claude.

She dropped to her knees, hands shaking as she tore open his vest, sighing with a heavy, desperate relief as she felt the bulletproof vest under his shirt. He coughed, heavy and pained and out of breath, but he was alive.

“You asshole,” she swore, punching him as hard as she dared in the shoulder. He yelped and began another round of coughing. “What were you thinking?”

“You were unprotected,” he gasped, clutching at his ribs, squinting at her through a haze of pain. “I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

“Yes, Claude, you could have!” she yelled, her words echoing through the alley. “What if you hadn’t been wearing your vest, huh?”

“I still would have done it,” he growled, his brow ticking in annoyance as his breathing evened out, slowly propping himself into a sitting position, Byleth still hovering over him. She bristled at his words.

“Why, Claude?” she cried, her voice desperate. “I’m nobody, nothing! I don’t matter in the long run! But you? You’re the leader, the King! What happens to us if you die!”

“I’d rather die than live without you!” he said, eyes burning and intense.

“Everyone needs you alive Claude! Even if that comes at the cost of my life, goddamnit!”

“Fuck everyone else, Byleth! I love you!” he yelled.

Byleth’s eyes blew wide open, her breath catching in her throat as the world came to a crashing stop around them.

The words echoed in her brain-  _ I love you! I love you! I love you! _ \- robbing her of thought as the words she had felt for so long but never had the courage to say were finally, finally thrown into the open. And wasn’t it like them, to have this moment just minutes after a brush with death, when not even an hour before she had sworn to herself to keep her feelings hidden, to push down her love for this beautiful, loyal, stupidly brave man before her because the time wasn’t right yet. After, she had told herself. Later. Another day.

But now, sitting in a damp alleyway, surrounded by cooling bodies and the sudden, terrifying realization that they may not have an after, a later, another day, Byleth was ready to throw caution to the wind, to take that chance, to fall.

“Claude,” she whispered, tremulous and awestruck, “I-”

Just then, a familiar black SUV came roaring into the alleyway, lights blinding her as she crouched over Claude.

“Professor!” yelled Raphael as he and Lysithea came tumbling out of the car. “Claude!”

“We’re okay,” Byleth said, pulling back from Claude, his warmth, his confession. She took her roiling emotions, shoving them just under the surface for just a moment longer. Business first. “Claude has bruised ribs but we’re okay. We’ll need your cleanup crew though, Lysithea.”

“On it,” she said, pulling out her phone to dial her people. In an hour, the alleyway would look as it had just an hour before, no trace of the Black Eagle hit squad to be found, even by the best and most highly trained professionals. Lysithea was good like that, her abilities almost magical.

“Come on, boss man,” Raphael said, helping Claude to his feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Thanks, Raph. Maya says hello, by the way.” The two men walked back to the car, although Claude’s eyes never left Byleth, his gaze heavy with their lost moment. Byleth forced herself to tear her gaze away, focusing as best she could back on the scene at hand.

“You know, I can handle this if you want to go with them,” Lysithea said, glancing knowingly at Byleth. She felt her ears burn, but took the excuse for escape nonetheless, making a mental note to buy Lysithea the biggest box of Swedish chocolates she could find. She chased after Claude and Raphael, sliding into the passenger’s seat so that she could keep an eye on Claude through the rearview mirror.

“I’ll drop Byleth off first, then?” Raphael asked.

“Actually,” Byleth said, tearing her eyes off of the mirror as Claude blinked in surprise, his gaze chasing her own, “I’ll go with Claude.”

\---- 

Claude’s apartment was clean, high end, and very expensive looking, all dark, hardwood floors and gleaming appliances. The silence was thick between them as they made their way through the doorway, Claude flipping a switch and turning on a few lights.

“Welcome to my home,” he said, quiet and heavy. Byleth slid his coat jacket- somehow still miraculously over her shoulders- onto a nearby leather armchair. She heard his breath catch at the sight of her exposed back and shoulders, and made her shiver with a delicious heat.

“It’s lovely,” she murmured, glancing at him over her shoulder. He walked up behind her, and she could feel his hesitation. She hadn’t responded yet to his outburst in the alleyway, had she? The weight of the words left unsaid hung heavy between them, and suddenly Byleth was desperate to escape, some small part of her terrified of what would happen, could happen.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?” she asked, turning her face from him, looking down as she toed off her heels.

“Of course, follow me,” he said, brushing past her. Instinctively she leaned into him, her body unconsciously chasing his warmth in the still coolness of the apartment. 

He led her down a hall to the second door on the left. It opened into a beautiful bathroom, with marble tiles and the kind of shower that wet dreams were made of. He turned on the dimmer, letting the lights fall low and seductive.

“I’ll grab you a change of clothes,” he said, his eyes taking another heated glance at her bare back. “Just call for me if you need anything.”

He turned to leave, but something clenched in her chest at the thought of being separated so soon. She reached out and snagged his wrist as he turned. He looked at her, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t- wouldn’t- name right now.

“Actually,” she said, “could you help me take my hair down? Hilda put it up and I’m not quite sure how to get it down without hurting myself.” Claude chuckled at this, sidling up behind her, the heat from his body searing into her skin, sinking in bone deep as his hands moved to caress the back of her neck. She shivered. He felt it.

“Anything for you, By,” he said, carefully hunting through her minty locks for bobby pins. They stood there in silence, the pins slowly coming out one by one as he gently pulled them from her locks, hands occasionally straying from her hair to brush against her neck, her shoulders. The pressure in her chest that had been slowly building and consuming her all night was rising to the surface once more, lodging in her throat and almost choking her as he bent down to place a single, worshipful, feather-light kiss against her shoulder. He rose back up, and they locked eyes in the mirror.

“Claude,” she said, the bubble of feeling bursting in her mouth as she turned to face him, her hands grasping at his arms, steadying herself on his strong, dependable frame. “Claude, did you mean what you said earlier?” Her voice was quiet, desperate.

His breath caught, and he stared into her eyes, searching hers for some answer she couldn’t even begin to guess at. “Yes,” he breathed, his hands slowly, slowly making their way to cup her face. It felt good, right. “I meant it. I love you, Byleth. I don’t ever want to live without you.”

“Good,” she said, steeling herself as the words she had been holding back for so, so long finally erupted from her chest. “Because I love you too.”

His hands stilled, and she felt the breath catch in her chest. Had she really just said that? 

“By,” he said, his voice deep and rough in a way that made her gut clench and tighten. “Are you saying that because-”

“Because I love you,” she responded, letting go and diving in, face first into a sea of decisions she had once sworn to herself she would never swim into. She turned her head, just enough to peer up at him through dark, mascara stained lashes. He licked his lips, pupils dilating in the dim light of the bathroom. “I have for a while. I love you, Claude von Riegan.”

That seemed to do it for him. Swiftly he yanked the last pin out of her hair and as it came cascading down around her bare shoulders he turned her to face him fully, hands gentle despite the force of the motion, and sealed his lips to hers in a crashing tidal wave of pent up desire. 

He was overwhelming. 

He was too much. 

She loved it. 

Their first kiss was desperate, all hot breath and nipping teeth, the adrenaline of the shootout finally, finally catching up to them. She weaved her finger into his gelled back hair and tugged him closer and he moaned into her mouth in a way that made her break apart from him to gasp for breath. She wondered what his hair felt like in the morning, soft and clean and messy. She hoped she would get to find out. 

He busied himself with tasting every inch of her neck as she worked on stripping him of his clothes. He groaned, louder and needier this time, as she yanked them to the ground and grabbed him in her hands, hot and already hardening. His hands pulled at the straps of her dress, letting it fall down to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to him, nipples hard and eager as he twirled them in his fingers. She cried out as he tugged on them, taking back one of her hands to unzip herself, the dress pooling at her feet, revealing that she hadn’t been wearing underwear underneath the dress either. This seemed to break him.

“Shower,” he whimpered between her strokes, guiding her backwards.

He fumbled for the handle, slamming the door open so hard that Byleth was almost shocked it didn’t break. They stumbled in, her back hitting the cold tile wall with a smack, and she groaned into his mouth. He echoed it with his own as she hooked one of her legs around his hip, grasping the meat of her thigh in his hand as he rutted into her, the hot friction of the movement making her throw her head back with an open mouthed gasp. Claude removed his other hand from her waist to brace himself against the wall, only to leap away with a shriek as he accidentally turned on the shower and it blasted them with ice cold water. 

Byleth snorted, then giggled, then full out laughed, tears in her eyes and joy on her face at the sight of cold, wet, startled Claude. He watched her, his mouth hanging slightly open with awe at her untempered mirth. Soon, though, as the water warmed and streamed down the two of them he joined her, their laughter weaving together in a joyous symphony. 

“God, we are awful at this,” Claude laughed, pulling Byleth off of the wall and into an embrace. He buried his face in her hair, the warmth of the water and his body combining into a delicious, relaxing heat that made her melt into him, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest. It felt good, being like this, wrapped up in each other, skin to skin. It felt right.

“Maybe,” she responded, tilting her head up to look at him, smiling gently, “But remember what I used to tell you, back when I was your teacher?”

“You told me a lot of things, By,” he said, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. 

“I told you,” she murmured against his lips, “That even if you’re not good at something, all you need to do to get better is practice.” She sealed their lips together, warm and slow and tender. Claude smiled into the kiss, pulling her tighter against his body, and she did her best not to chuckle at the feeling of him stirring against her stomach.

“Come on, let’s get washed up before we try that again,” she said as she broke away from the kiss. He let out a theatrical groan, tilting his head back under the spray of the shower.

“I’ll let you wash my back,” she offered teasingly.

“Well,” he grinned, reaching for a bottle of shampoo, “I can’t say no to that, now can I?”

—— 

If Byleth hadn’t already been in love with Claude before, then the scalp massage he gave her as he washed her hair would have sealed the deal. She groaned as he ran his nails across her scalp and down her neck as he moved her head back and forth, rinsing the shampoo from her hair. She shivered as his clever fingers pushed her now clean hair away from her face and behind her ears as he leaned down to kiss her once more. Her own hands moved from their spot on his broad shoulders to cup his face, stroking across his cheek as he smiled into the kiss. 

“You,” she told him between kisses, “Are entirely too good at that. I may just make you do that every day from now on.”

“And I would gladly give you that, my love,” he told her, his mouth splitting into a handsome grin as it moved from her mouth down to her neck. He licked and sucked at the column of flesh, smiling wider as Byleth shuddered and leaned into him. Her breathing grew heavy and fast as his wicked, clever mouth moved lower and lower. He trailed his hands teasingly down her back to cup at the firm globes of her ass, kneading them between his hands as he nipped at her collarbone. A slick heat pooled between her legs as he pressed his fingers into the meat of her lower back, her ass, her thighs.

“Claude,” she gasped, hands flying to tug at his hair, “Please!”

He groaned at the sensation and slipped a hand between her thighs, thumbing at her clit as his other fingers traced the outside of her lips, reveling in the slickness he found there. “Is all this for me?” he asked, half teasing, half reverent, stroking her clit with the pad of his thumb, over and over again as Byleth’s hips jerked into his hand, the motions making a wave of pleasure bloom in her gut.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice shaky with pleasure as he dropped to his knees in front of her, his head level with her entrance, “Just for you, Claude.” He placed an awed kiss to the juncture of her thighs before diving in, mouth latching onto her clit as he slid a finger into her. Byleth cried out, her head falling back against the tile of the shower as he relentlessly suckled on her, his finger pumping in and out in a rhythm that made her eyes screw shut as her vision swam, the crest of her orgasm rising in her gut until she climaxed heavily, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, one leg coming up to wrap around his head, pushing him closer as he licked at the juices that flowed from her, his finger continuing its assault on her insides. He slipped another one in, pistoning them in and out and licking long, hot stripes up her clit until she put her leg down shakily and yanked his head away.

“Too much,” she gasped, breathless and starry eyed. He stared up at her, head resting against her hip, devotion in his eyes as she tried to get her bearings. She tugged on his hair, motioning for him to get to his feet so she could kiss him hard and deep, the taste of her still on his tongue. He moaned into the kiss, his erection hard and needy against her stomach.

“Are we done in here?” he asked as he broke away from the kiss, eyes pleading. “I’d really like to move this to the bedroom now, if you’re okay with that.”

She nodded eagerly, reaching to shut off the water as Claude led the two of them out of the shower, down the hall, and into the last door on the right.

She didn’t have much time to take in the decor of his bedroom before he threw himself onto the enormous, king sized bed in the middle of it. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the picture. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Care to share with the class?” he asked her.

“You’re sopping wet,” she snorted, squeezing the water from her hair onto the carpet below. “You look ridiculous, like a half drowned rat.”

He groaned, although not from pleasure this time, flopping backwards onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. “That is like, the least sexy thing you could say right now,” he complained, although judging by his still fully erect member, he couldn’t have minded too much.

Byleth hopped onto the bed next to him, moving to straddle his waist. He peeked out at her from behind his hands as she leaned down to press more kisses against his mouth.

“You’re my half drowned rat,” she cooed, and that made him laugh into the kiss, a laugh that quickly turned into a needy moan as she ground down against his member, hot and heavy against her in a way that had heat pooling between her thighs once more. She whined as she ground against him, again and again until they were both gasping for air.

“Please, By,” he begged, eyes hazy as he stared up at her from under his thick, dark lashes. “I need you, now.”

Byleth hummed and took him in her hands, stroking him once, twice, three times before lining herself up with him. She locked eyes with him as she sank down onto his cock, the burning heat of it making her cry out as she bottomed out, their hips pressing together as Claude let out a cry of his own. His hands flew up to grasp at her hips, needy but somehow still gentle in a way that made her heart twist with emotion as she slowly began to rock back and forth, sliding him in and out of her in a steady motion that had him throwing his head back as she rode him, using him to chase her building pleasure, rising and swirling until it consumed her entire body. The feeling of goodness, of rightness, of love, felt stronger and stronger with each pass of their hips, swirling around in her gut, her chest, until it consumed her, body and soul. She moved greedily on him, the rhythm she had maintained before crescendoing into a desperate back and forth as he pistoned his hips into her, determined to help her crest the wave.

“So good, By,” he panted, reaching out a hand to intertwine his fingers with her own as he bounced her in his lap. “So good for me.”

Byleth keened at the praise, a high and needy noise that made Claude twitch inside of her. “I’m close, Claude, I’m so close,” she chanted, tossing her head back as she slammed their hips together, “Please, Claude I’m so close.”

“By,” he cried, his hips stuttering, “God, I love you Byleth.”

“Claude,” she gasped, leaning forward to rest her head against his neck as her entire body jerked, her orgasm crashing over her in a wave of ecstasy, her vision whiting out for a few seconds as she yelled her pleasure, the noise echoing through the room as Claude came with a grunt, his semen hot and thick as it filled her. 

She laid against his chest for a minute more before carefully pulling herself off of him, both of them groaning at the sensation. Before she could go too far Claude turned onto his side, reaching out to pull her cooling body against his. She nuzzled into his chest, her own arms moving to wrap around him as well.

“Damn,” he groaned, pressing another kiss into her drying hair. “We should do that again.”

“Maybe,” she yawned, “In the morning.”

He hummed a quiet, happy noise and Byleth snuggled in closer. 

“I love you, Claude,” she said, the words sweet and refreshing against her tongue.

“I love you too, Byleth,” he murmured, and the feeling was like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> Not to shabby for my first smut, eh? I have a few more planned so feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed it!


End file.
